Valentine's Gay
by Intoxicated Gnu
Summary: Joe had a secret love. It was a forbidden one, yet he couldn't stop it. It was too bad it was one-sided... or was it? Will Joe find that certain someone for him on Valentine's Day? StevexJoe


Joe sat on his big, red armchair, one leg folded underneath him while his other flung off of the piece of furniture in that languid way it liked to do when Joe was thinking. He sat on the thinking chair often those days. However, it never helped him with his troubles, only with those of others. Joe wondered at times if the thinking chair didn't like him. A drop of a tear; the message from his heart began to slide down his pale cheeks, his big, dorky grin no longer in its place. The tears spilled from his chin to the floor because tears did that a lot. But did he _have_ a big, dorky grin at all? Was it all just a front? Acting? He didn't know anymore. Every holiday, he sat in his thinking chair and waited for something. He wasn't waiting for anything in particular. A letter? A phone call? On each holiday, he would skip filming, for he could not act cheery on a day where he was hurting so badly. "Steve wouldn't want to talk to me," Joe muttered, excluding the one time Steve had called which had been on a holiday (the thing that had started this tradition of Joe's) and the overwhelming disappointment that was chucked at his head when Steve asked to talk to Blue—it seemed as though that was all Steve had called for. "I'm just a retarded, gay jock who'll never get laid," Joe said as he throw himself down onto the arm of his chair, sobbing into his arm whilst the other hung down in a lazy way like it tended to do when Joe was thinking. Joe hadn't done well at school. All of the other kids would tease him and the worst part was that they didn't know how right they were. Joe agreed whole-heartedly. Being a jock was a given, but he was gay, too, and retarded—retarded for loving Steve.

Soon after finishing high-school, Joe had gotten a phone call. He had bounded off in excitement, not bothering to listen to the reason Steve wanted him there. Because Steve _wanted_ him. What would destroy his enjoyment was the fact that he was staying, but Steve was leaving. Joe thought at times of going to college. If he could follow in his big brother's footsteps, maybe Steve would be proud. But he could never get into college. He was much too stupid for that. It was just college either, but would he ever get a job? All he wanted was to be a Broadway star, yet the people at the auditions had told him he couldn't act. They hadn't touched on his singing and he hadn't known what to think of that. But no… He was mooching off of his smart, successful brother, trying to finish up the contract Steve had made. While Joe knew he wasn't very good at it, it had also become a habit and he would sometime have a hard time getting through a day without singing and talking to nonexistent people. At least they were his friends. Joe didn't have any real ones. And so, Joe sat in his big, red armchair on yet another holiday. He was being silly. Steve would never call him on Valentine's Day.

Joe heard a small 'br-bur' coming from below him. Blue knew about Joe's issues, but didn't usually bother him anymore. "What is it, girl?" he asked, voice soft with exhaustion and the fog of tears.

Blue made more trumpety-dog noises, nudging at him. He only looked confused, however, so she settled with cuddling up against him.

Joe's hand stroked her fur in absent-minded motions, his thoughts once more going to Steve. "Aw Blue," he said after a while, "You know I can't understand you. Not like Steve could…"

Blue knew this to be true. She appeared saddened and jump off of the resting spot she had made upon his lap. The tricky little dog had a plan in store and it was hopefully not one that would disappoint. Jumping around a yipping, Blue smiled, trying to get Joe's attention.

"Oh, Steve!" Joe sobbed into his arm, the boy missing Steve more and more every day. In private, he would sometimes wear a green, striped shirt and imagine he was as awesome as Steve was. And skinny. Joe was envious of Steve's eating disorder too, as nobody found it disgusting. Everyone found Joe's faults to be so. "Where have you gone, Steve?" Joe didn't know how to follow maps, so such things did not help. He could not visit his brother. He didn't know how to get his brother's number. Would he ever see Steve again?

Blue tugged at Joe's pant leg, making those Blue-like barks louder in between.

"What is it?" Joe snapped, head thrusting into the air with rosy, despair-filled eyes. All of the sudden, Joe had the urge to look straight ahead of them. "What was that?" he asked, head turning in every direction. "Do you see a clue?" In truth, Joe was able to sense clues, but talking to 'the boys and girls' had gotten to be usual for him, so he did it sometimes when they weren't filming, too. Jumping off of the chair and looking down, Joe saw a pawprint. "A puddle?"

Blue shook her head, being exasperated at his stupidity.

"Rain?"

Blue repeated her last action.

"Oh, I know! You mean tears!"

Blue nodded this time around, doing a spin while confetti came down.

"Okay, so the first clue is… tears." Joe patted his pockets. It appeared that he had left his notebook in that little side table drawer again.

Side Table Drawer smiled as she saw Joe coming towards her, the drawer having been trying to talk to him for hours. Joe never seemed to notice her, the drawer being quite the wallflower. She envied those who were mobile. "Joe, Joe! I've got an idea!"

"Way ahead of you." Joe showed her a shadow of a grin as he wrapped his hand around her glistening knob, enclosing his fingers around it tightly. He then pulled the protruding bit of the object, tugging and pulling and pulling and tugging.

A tint of red could be seen on what could be seen as Side Table Drawer's cheeks. She wasn't so incompetent a drawer as to be stuck all of the time, but she sometimes did it on purpose to keep him around longer. It was obvious he wasn't going to talk to her.

With a harsher grip, Joe pulled one last time, resulting in him falling onto his bottom. It was a rather round bottom, the type cartoon babies were drawn with. Grabbing his Handy Dandy Notebook, Joe shut the drawer, ignoring the calls that came from it. "Let's see…" He drew a face—one with broken eyes, yet the broken eyes were closed, somehow revealing more of the helplessness that laid beyond, their eyelashes gentle yet butterflies, yet thick and harsh like a whip. The lips, while in black crayon, had luminance about them, one of an angel's—or a demon's. Yet even before drawing the single crystalline tear that tracked down the person's doll=like face, one could see that something was eating them up inside. What? Well, that was a clue one would have to figure out for themselves. Joe finished up his drawing by adding a tear and then another. Soon, there were a puddle of tears, the girl's body consumed by them. "Tears." Smiling at his creation, he once more turned to where he had been staring before. "It looks like Blue's onto something. I wonder where she's gone now. Should we go look?" He stared for a moment until he imagined a 'Yes!' "Alright, come on."

Hours later, Joe had given up on finding Blue. Perhaps she had run away, sick and tired of him bitching and moaning. He had always thought her to be a nice little dog, but nobody could put up with someone like him forever, right? It just wasn't possible. So he was laying in the park, his body spread across the muddy, grass-covered ground. It had once been so green. His sadness had ruined it, surely.

"_Hey, sleepy head,"_ the voice in his mind told him, ruffling all too short hair. Imaginary Joe opened his eyes, a serene smile crossing his face. Somewhere in his dream, he knew it was not real. _"What's with the sad eyes?"_

"Steve," Joe whispered, both in his dream and out loud. "I want to see you, but… I can't tell you. I can't tell you what a freak I am!" He had begun to try at this point, his voice struggling to break through his throat. "What do I do now?"

Dream Steve chuckled in a deep, sexy way that Steve could probably never do. _"Why don't you ask Blue to help you? You know she wouldn't just abandon you like that."_

"Yeah…" Before Joe could give a real answer, voice his true concerns, he came to. "Oh, Steve." He knew the real Steve would give him a speech just like that. Wordier, but still similar. He decided to go home. He would still have to film sometime, even if that day was not it. He knew he was probably bringing everyone down, but he couldn't force himself to try to see anyone. He had been trying to teach Mr. Salk and Mr. Pepper English, but who knew what they were doing? Joe didn't want to risk becoming more upset on Valentine's Day. The truth was that he didn't even know how the couple did things and didn't want to. He would be far too tempted to go for that offer the woman had spoken up before. This brought even more horrifying images to Joe's head, however, once of Steve and his girlfriend. It was a repeat of his dream from the night before, but Steve had a way sexier smirk on and Joe was not Joe, but a chick. Joe could not keep the tears from flowing from his eyes which flared crimson. He would never be Steve's girlfriend.

Once Joe had reached home, he slunk back into his thinking chair, the thoughts never good ones. It took a while and a lot of noise for him to realize Blue was still there, waiting for him. "Blue, you did come back for me!" He took the dog into his big, strong gay jock grasp. It was a good thing the pet was a cartoon. "I'm so sorry for doubting you," he cried into the dog's chest. After calming himself down, he whipped around, nose puffing up as he sniffed out his next clue. "It's…" He reached for the notebook and crayon, waiting in anticipation. "The phone!" Joe drew a sketch of a telephone, the phone looking more like a banana on a string than anything. "Okay," he said, gaze reaching for the sun. "What can I do with tears and a phone?" He supposed he could soak the phone with his tears, but he didn't know whether or not the phone was water resistant or if it would like it since it didn't talk. He also thought of trying to clean the telephone with his tears, but not when they were his. Joe's tears were dirty, tainted with the red tinge of lust he had for an inappropriate person and his pussiness of not being able to come out and say it. As the other jocks would say, he was such a fagozoid. Sighing, he shoved the notebook into his back pocket, imagining for just a moment that it held the warmth of Steve's hand and not his own. But, being his own, it disappeared quickly and he was left with a cold and lonely butt. Joe leaned back, remembering his good dream from the night before. He could imagine his brother ravishing him, but he could also imagine him doing things. To Steve's nose. Steve's nose was like that of an exotic bird, the kind that held an allure indescribable yet remarkable and also just pretty damn sexy. Joe wondered if maybe, just maybe, he could convince Steve to get a nose ring. Shaking himself from his thoughts, Joe sensed another blue pawprint. He scanned the room, dropping onto his hands and knees to look for it, but it never came into sight. "Why?" he asked the skies. "Why? Don't I deserve some help? Some support? Must every abandon me?" His face twisted, disgusting retarded gay jock face becoming something even uglier, the representation of his true self. "I'll grow my hair to a normal length. I'll give myself an eating disorder. Please! Please, anything to let me hear that smooth, voice, see those everyman clothes he somehow could make his own. Please!" Wiping the silent tears, as tears usually were that way, Joe picked himself off of the ground. "Oh, fuck it!" he shouted, storming into another room. He was going to dream of Steve again and it would be a pleasant thing and it would be his Valentine's Day present to himself!

Taking a deep breath, Joe entered his bedroom. The scented candles were already lit from the night before, his poster of Elmo with awesome abs gazing at him from the ceiling. Valentine's Day was a good one, he reminded himself, gently removing his shirt as he imagined soft lips caressing his gay-man biceps. He threw the the shirt onto the bed, jumping on it and hugging the shirt. "Wait…" Lifting the Fruit-Loop yellow shirt, he found a smudge of blue that was shaped like something not a smudge and had that familiar scent of pool water. Joe sat up, the sexiness all gone out of him and put on the shirt again. Joe paused for a moment, for once thinking of the right answer because while he was stupid, he was not quite the douchetard they made him out to be on TV. "Me?" he whispered, as if something amazing had come to him. Blue, who was still covering her eyes, nodded enthusiastically with a yip. Joe scrambled to get out his Handy Dandy Notebook, crayon stabbing his chin as he thought of what he could do with himself, a telephone, and tears. He drew himself, the image coming out all black and angry and crappy. Kind of like him. Sighing, he threw the notebook onto the bed. "I guess I could mix my urine with the tears—no, that would be pointless. Maybe, I can soak in the tears and then clean the telephone with my shirt." Still thinking, he looked up when he heard an imaginary voice. "That's it!"

Joe ran to the living room, a burst of energy he hadn't had in ages sparking within him. He sat down on the chair and picked up the phone, the pumping in his chest urging him to hurry up, his finger nearly missing every single number on the phone. It turned out he had Steve's number right next to the telephone. His lack of needing to call people had let him forget about this. Joe waited, every ring bringing another tear. Steve wasn't going to answer!

"Hello?"

"Steve!" Joe shouted, far too loud for the telephone who actually could talk but was now def.

"Hey, Joe! How is Blue?"

"Fine," Joe answered flatly. An awkward silence spawned. "Uhm… How's college?"

"It's fine." Steve said, rolling his eyes behind the shield of his phone. "What are you calling for?"

"I…" Joe's cries rang out, him stuffing his hand underneath the chair cushion in embarrassment. "I just wanted… To wish you… A happy Valentine's Day!" Joe continued to cry before the real feelings poured out of him. "Why is it that it's always about Blue? Why isn't it about me? What about me, Steve? WHAT ABOUT ME!?"

Another pause. "What about you?" On the other end, Steve sighed. "I didn't think it mattered. I figured if you wanted to call me, you would. You're a big boy now, Joe, I can't run your life for you."

An audible gasp sprung from Joe's mouth—the opening to his soul if he let it be. "Steve… I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" He sniffled, the snot dripping down his face nevertheless. "I love you, Steve." Before his brother could answer, Joe continued. "I don't love you like that… I love you like _that_! You don't know what it's like. I'm sorry I'm such a disgusting, dumb…. Ewwyhead, Steve! Maybe you would love me too!"

Steve didn't say anything right away, but one could hear the breathing become louder. "We're… We're brothers."

"But we're not real brothers!" Joe's family had just wanted a replacement for him and had gone and picked up a little boy they could love. "Why? Why can't it just…" Be easy? Work out? Probably because Steve wasn't gay. Why did he have to be gay? And also in love with his brother who wasn't his brother? Joe was shocked to find a choked sound from the other side.

"Do you know why I live with Blue, Joe?" Steve asked, his voice somehow sounding far away yet also like it was right beside his ear. "Did you ever wonder why I agreed to live in the house Mom and Dad gave me so easily?"

Joe shook his head.

"Joe, think about it… What could we could with you and me? No third clue, just the two of us."

Joe looked down, seriously thinking about it. "Well, I guess we could do a lot of things."

"I hate you!" Steve spazzed, soon regaining control of himself. "I thought it was unnatural. I thought I would ruin both of our lives."

Joe didn't see where he was getting at.

"You're right. We're not real brothers. Why can't we do couple things once in a while? We're both adults." Now they were, anyway. Hadn't been when Steve moved out, but that wasn't the point.

"You really mean it?" It wasn't the heartfelt goodness that Joe had wanted to envelope him in comfort, but it was good enough. Plus, he would make Steve's heart gay for him. Maybe it would be the first thing he didn't screw up.

"For you, Joe," Steve said in a nice big brother tone, crying as he knew that his life was ruined, but it was the only way to keep his beloved little brother happy.


End file.
